Mending
by CameoQueen
Summary: A young woman is attacked while her village burns... and then she is saved. But who is he? WARNING: GRAPHIC ATTACK SCENE (kinda), hence the M rating. I love constructive criticism so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT! First Fanfic, wish me luck!
1. Chapter 1: Lust

The harsh, choking smell of smoke filled Malrin's nose, pulling her violently out of sleep. She struggled for breath as she sat up, the swirling air thick and murky around her. Coughing, Malrin sprang out of her coarse straw mattress, covering her mouth and nose. Flickering flames leapt rapidly up the walls of her room. The thin mud covering her walls was crumbling off, leaving the dry straw exposed to the blaze. Malrin pushed through the choking air, her lungs burning with the effort. The leap from the loft usually looked short and easily done, but now looked unfeasible. Her reliable stepladder, worn smooth from her hands, was now a black pillar of smoldering cinders, burning her hands when she touched it. Sucking on her fingers, Malrin groped for the edge of the loft. She let go of her mouth and nose and dropped, hanging by her arms and hands. For a second, Malrin gathered her wits before the loft started to sink, fire licking her fingers. Shrieking with pain, Malrin dropped, landing with a bump on the hard dirt floor. Her bones screamed in agony; her flesh ached from the fall. Malrin lay gasping before the smoke overtook her lungs once more. She forced herself to stand and move towards the woven curtain hanging as a door. A sudden panic overtook her mind, making her heart stop.

_Her mother's rosary._

Malrin ran to the shelve next to the cold fire pit, grabbing her mother's silver and sapphire rosary. A earsplitting crash and blast of heat from behind her made her scream. Malrin pushed through the door, tearing the rough, woven curtain off the doorway as she dashed out. The house toppled in a split second afterwards. Malrin collapsed, sobbing, onto the grass as the boiling air passed its way over her back, blistering the skin beneath her thin wool shift. Malrin sat up, struggling to move her taut, fiery skin. Looking around, her breath caught in her throat. Women we fleeing, holding their children's hands as their homes burned. Horses caught in a barns screamed in agony as a barn collapsed around them. Blood flowed down the streets and bodies lay around the town, all men, women and children. Men on horseback raced through the town, lighting straw roofs on fire with torches, their stench carrying through the town, roaring and bellowing with malicious delight. Malrin rose, her knees quivering and put her mother's rosary around her neck.

_Get to the woods._

Four words pounded in her head as Malrin dashed, pulling the drape up over her coiled flaxen hair. Her swift feet carried her through the burning town, past crying children, bodies in the streets and women as they lay bleeding. Her pounding feet created a rhythm as she ran, her mind focusing on the misty dark land that sat in the distance. Suddenly, a rider on a great ashen mare whirled straight toward Malrin. His facial hair was untamed and foul, his clothes soiled and torn. His mouth was open wide with a howl, his eyes wild. He pulled a sword out of his scabbard, and leapt off the mare, landing in a puddle of ash and mud. He grinned as he circled her, his teeth black.

"Petty lassie, ain't ye?"

He laughed a loud, hacking laugh and stepped towards her, ripping off her cloak, sending her sprawling into the street.

"Please don't touch me."

Malrin begged, but her cries were lost in the din of panic. The man laughed loudly again, forcing her to lay on the ground and sat on top of her, making it difficult to breathe. His harsh mouth met hers, giving her a nauseating taste of harsh wine and tobacco he had last smoked. She begged and pleaded, screamed and fought, but all to no avail. Finally, growing tired of her relentless cries, the man held her mouth with his dirty hand. Then, aggressively, he pulled her wool skirt up with a lusty growl and entered her, a flash of pain making Malrin shriek. Then she stopped fighting. She thought of her mother and her beautiful face, swimming lazily in her mind, the day after they had gone on a picnic with her father many years ago. They had swam in a lake with a waterfall, she remembered. It was cool and clean, cleaner than anything Malrin had seen in her short life. Her mother's laugh was high and joyful, her father's laugh deep and throaty. They ran together, under the hot sun. And as the sun went down, they walked back, her mother's long skirt swishing in the tall grass, and her father's muscular shoulders rippling under Malrin's jaw and he carried her over his shoulder. The man was moving now, grunting and sweating. The sound was nauseating. Malrin turned her head, looking towards the castle's shape in the smoke. How she had yearned, so long ago, to live there, as Lady Cathleen did. Now there was only darkness, and death, and pain.

_This man is going to kill me_, she thought.

But she didn't really mind. Her body seemed separate from her mind, floating through the air. Screams from the survivors reverberated everywhere and as she lay, limp, she yearned for death. And then, abruptly, a crash reverberated around the town, knocking some sense into her. She moaned, and the man responded, moving up to kiss her neck. Malrin reached into his cloak carefully and grabbed the man's sword handle, pulling up and then thrusting in. The man screamed and stood, holding his side, where a deep gash was oozing crimson. He yelled angrily, his trousers around his ankles, and pulled a short dagger from his boot. He threw it at her rapidly, before she could move. It stuck in her shoulder with a sickening thud. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat before she fell to her knees. The man laughed maliciously, and stepped toward her, pulling the dagger out slowly, relishing in her pain. Malrin did not make a sound. She tilted her head up, making eyes contact with the man as he raised the dagger to penetrate her head. Before the glinting blade came down upon her head, an arrow, silver and wickedly fast, whizzed straight through his skull. He screamed, and collapsed. He was dead before he hit the ground. His body landed close to her, but Malrin did not move. She sat there, numb as the blood pooled around them. Suddenly, a pair of rough, gentle hands lifted her into a standing position.

"Come along now, milady."

The voice was deep and melodious, a man's. His hands wrapped around her waist and held her upright, and whistled softly. The sound of pounding hooves filled the air, and a tall, silver horse stopped in front of them with a snort. The man's voice carried through the air, murmuring soft words of encouragement as he lifted her on the horse with ease. He leaped gracefully behind her and grasped the leather reins, keeping a steady hold on her. He whispered something in a strange tongue, and the horse whinnied, flying off towards the east. Malrin leaned back, breathing in the man's fresh smell, like the sunshine and flowers in the spring. His long, pale blonde hair was soft, brushing her neck. She leaned her head back into him, feeling the rich silk brocade that made up his tunic. It was tight, his well formed, lean muscles rippling as they flew away from the stench of decay. The screams died, replaced with a cool silence. The wind whipped her face, bringing feeling back to her limbs. Malrin groaned, turning her head to the side.

"Everything will be right with the world."

The man murmur softly, slowing the horse momentarily to cross a river. The freezing water splashed over Malrin's bare feet and knees, soaking her woolen skirt. The horse made it across, scrambling up the steep bank and taking off like a flash in the dark once again. They raced through the woods. Trees stretched their malicious limbs out to them, beckoning them into the dark. Suddenly, Malrin noticed a flickering dot in the darkness. It was warm and welcoming, hope on the shady horizon. The man tensed and leaned forward, kicking his heels into the horses flank and clicking his tongue.

"Our destination draws near. "

The flickering light grew steadily larger, and men's voices filled her ears. As they approached the clearing, a man's rumbling voice rose in anger.

"What folly is this, Legolas?"

"She is injured. Our aid is needed."

"You could have been seen! We have no time for this."

Malrin moaned suddenly, her head whirling. She heard a shout as the saddle left her legs.

"Catch her!"

She felt a pair of rough hands grab her and darkness seized her vision.

When Malrin awoke, she was laying on her side on a rough woolen sleeping mat. Men were talking in hushed voices as a pair of coarse hands felt her stinging shoulder gently.

"Tell us what happened, Legolas."

Malrin gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes closed.

"I went to the village as planned, but I found chaos when I arrived. Men from another realm had reduced the village to ashes. I attempted leave but found...them at the edge of the town."

Malrin winced and moaned. Silence followed, along with a gentle brush to her hair, before the chatter resumed.

"There was a mortal- He was standing just above her with a dagger, already bleeding. I simply finished the job. I pulled her up, and found her shoulder. I knew she was losing too much blood to survive. I thought you could help her, Aragorn"

The man above Malrin stopped, and took a deep breath.

"Good riddance to filth I say. But what are we gonna do with the girl?"

The men paused, and Malrin felt pairs of eyes on her. She made her breathing even and serene, hoping they wouldn't notice her shaking. Finally, after a pause, the same deep voice from above her cut through the silence.

"We wait until she awakes, and see what shall happen from there. We must reach north Calomel before tomorrow's sunset."

The group made noises of agreement.

"Lovely. Now rest. And someone watch the girl. I don't doubt she will be plagued by nightmares."

The rustling of blankets followed his words. Malrin froze, waiting. Loud snores from all corners filled the clearing after some time. Malrin stood up slowly, holding her shoulder. Nothing stirred. She stepped lightly over a sleeping figure next to her, grabbing his thick cloak as she went. Malrin put it on, pulling the dark hood over her head. She winced, her shoulder stinging fiercely as she moved to the edge of the clearing.

_Almost there..._

Suddenly a glint caught her eye. It was a sword of exquisite quality, sitting a few inches away from a snoring figure. She hesitated, her mind whirling. Then, making up her mind, Malrin grabbed the hilt, pulling it out slowly. She reached the point of the blade when the snap of a twig behind her made her reel around, holding the sword out in front of her, her body shaking from loss of blood. A deep, rumbling chuckle came out of the darkness.

"Come, milady. Didn't anyone teach you to pick your fights more sensibly?"

A young man stepped into the light of the campfire, a smirk on his face. He was exceptionally handsome, with snapping blue eyes and strong jaw. He leaned against a tree, his body language cocky.

"My, my. A lady _really_ shouldn't be playing with swords."

Malrin glared at him, moving forward so that the sword tip touched his throat. He snorted, a sneer on his face.

"Leave her be, Vice."

Malrin gasped, letting the sword slid out her weak fingers. Vice caught the handle in his strong hands. She spun around, finding herself in front of a short, plump figure with an stylishly braided, crimson beard.

_Dwarf?_

"Come now, Gimli, just a bit of fun."

The Dwarf studied Malrin through tiny eyes filled with a merry fire.

"Starting a brawl with Vice, are we lassie?"

Malrin backed up, frightened, and bumped into a tall, wiry figure, spry like a young tree. She turned, frustrated, and found herself staring into the most incandescent blue eyes she had ever seen. They were gentle, wistful and intelligent, sitting in a chiseled, handsome face. Pale blonde hair, which was swept away from pointed ears in a half-braid, fell down past his slender shoulders, complimenting his face.

"Are you recovered?"

His voice was the same, low and gentle, his smile comforting, like the warm sun on a icy day. Malrin felt draw to him, linked by an unseen ribbon of fate.

"You...saved my life."

His smile died on his face, replaced by a troubled look. He stepped back, not looking at her.

"Indeed..."

She reached toward him, but hesitated, drawing her arm back with a grimace and brushed her shoulder.

"I suppose we should introduce ourselves."

The gruff voice came from behind Malrin made her start. A tall man stood there, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. He had peppered dark hair that fell into his ruggedly handsome face. His clothes were dirty and torn, stained by travel and excessive wear. Looking around, Malrin noticed the groups clothes, which were torn and dirtied as well.

"My name is Aragorn."

He nodded to the elf behind her, his arms crossed.

"The elf is Legolas, the dwarf Gimli...and the _man_ in the tree is Vice."

Malrin turned, curious, to find herself literally nose to nose with the arrogant man from before, hanging upside down in a tree. She gasped, scrambling back as he jumped down nimbly, doubling up at her expression.

"Pleasure, milady."

Vice said, bowing low. He stood up, a grin on his face. Legolas nodded his head at her, while the dwarf, Gimli, heaved a great breath and slug his great axe on his shoulder. Malrin swallowed before replying in a voice that sound breathy and exhausted in her ears.

"My name is Malrin."

Aragorn bowed low, keeping his deep, golden-brown eyes on her. She tilted her head up wearily, studying him intently.

"I need to see your shoulder, Malrin."

Malrin hesitated, taking a step back, but seeing Aragorn's stern gaze, she nodded, wincing at the searing pain in her shoulder. She sat on a tree stump by the flickering fire, watching its dancing flames. Her skin glistened with sweat while sparks spun and danced, weaving through the air delicately like burning snowflakes. Aragorn pushed her dress down gently, revealing her slender shoulders and a crimson river dripping down her breast and covering her arm. It saturated her woolen dress, baffling her by the metallic smell and iridescent sheen it gave off in the firelight. Aragorn took a pot of boiling creek water off the fire and set it down near her. He dipped a rag in it and held it gently to her shoulder. Steam swirled in the chilly air, distracting her from the burning pain in her left shoulder. After clearing the blood off of her skin, Aragorn sewed the deep would closed with a needle and thread. His stitches were small and neat, like soldiers marching in a line, starkly contrasting with her pale skin. He poured some sort of alcohol from his canister on the lesion, making it bite, and wrapped a tight bandage around it. Then he pulled her dried, bloodstained dress back up, washing his hands with a fresh rag. Malrin swallowed.

"Thank you."

Aragorn didn't answer. He poured the rest of the water in the grass, making steam rise into the air. Then he sat on a fallen tree and pulled out a pipe. He lit it and leaned back, crossing his arms. Smoke coiled around his face, whirling up before vanishing into the treetops. Legolas stood at the edge of the clearing, a bow and arrows slung over his shoulder, complete still, staring off into the darkness of the trees. Gimli sat against a tree, pulling his cap over his eyes and crossing his arm over his long beard. Crickets chirped, and an animal called from the trees. Malrin's head nodded to her chest. She started, blinking to stay awake. The fire cracked as a log fell, and the flames turned a deep purple. The flames changed into the shape of a running horse, then spun and turned into a beautiful, terrible woman. She grew, twisting and climbing into the dark sky, extinguishing the stars.

When Malrin awoke, her face was in the fresh, dewy grass, her back to a large log. The air was breezy and serene, the clearing filled with snores and slow, even breathing. The sun was just reaching its bright rays across the treetops, filling the clearing with a rosy light. The fire had died during the night, and embers were barely glowing in the ring of stones. A twig cracked in the trees in front of her, making her freeze, still laying on the cool grass. Soft, growling noises floated from behind trees, completely surrounding them. Aragorn was asleep against a tree, his face peaceful and even more handsome in sleep. Gimli was in the same spot Malrin had last seen him, his cap still over his face, snores floating across the clearing. Malrin barely moved, searching the clearing for Legolas. He was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, a hand clamped down over her mouth. Malrin did not make a sound, grabbing the hand with both of hers, any possible cry muffled by the rough hand gently covering her mouth. The figure put his mouth close to her ear, his hair caressing her shoulders.

"Hush. We must not be seen."

_Legolas?_

Malrin stopped struggling. Legolas pulled her up over the tall log and let go of her mouth, pulling his bow off of his back and a single arrow out of his quiver. He prepared his bow and arrow, drew back and fired into the trees on the other opposite side of the clearing and the log that was hiding them from sight. A scream of pain followed, and angry shouts filled the clearing. Legolas crouched down again, resting his bow on the ground.

"There are 9, maybe 10 in the trees surrounding us. Can you use this?"

He pulled a sword out of his belt, and handed it to her, trepidation in his voice. Malrin smiled.

"My father taught me how, yes."

Legolas fired another arrow into the trees and a roar of pain again reverberated around. This time, Aragorn and Gimli awoke, both shouting in surprise, grabbing their weapons. Bodies burst from the trees with deafening bellows. Their skin was a sickly grey, and they stood taller than a horse. They carried huge, spiked clubs, dried blood covering them. The smell was horrendous, like decaying meat and sweat. Malrin leaped over the log and stood by Aragorn, her weapon at the ready. The creatures eyes were tiny and pale. They blinked and turned their heads rapidly, listening and smelling carefully. When Malrin ran, their eyes did not follow her. Instead, the swish of her dress caught their attention. She picked up a stick and threw it into the underbrush, watching as the creatures bawled and turned toward the noise.

_They are blind._

Gimli swung his axe excitedly. Vice dropped down next to them from a tree, swinging two thin, curved blades joyfully.

"Well, well, well, seems like you get a little _excitement_ your first day, Lady Malrin."

Malrin couldn't help but laugh at his face. It was boyish, handsome and his cobalt eyes sparkled in the dazzling morning sun. The creatures roared again, shuffling around so that they surrounded them, but didn't attack.

_What are they waiting for?_

Suddenly, the creatures whimpered and retreated into the forest, waiting just along the sides of the clearing. Legolas joined Malrin, an arrow at the ready. They stood back to back, their weapons held out. As though they had suddenly been signaled, the creatures roared, throwing themselves at the mismatched group. Legolas shot one in the eye, readied another arrow and let it fly, hitting another through its open mouth. Aragorn swung, missing at first, then swung back, chopping one of the creatures' leg off. It screamed, falling back. Its blood was a sickly green color, splattering against Malrin's skirt. Malrin ducked and dodged, frightened to make the first blow. Gimli roared, hacking away at the monsters' knees. Vice laughed gleefully, springing from creature to creature as he chopped off head after head. Finally, the clearing was quiet, except for the groups labored breathing. Malrin's clean sword glinted in the sunlight, a severe difference from Aragorn's, which dripped green slime onto the damp grass. Legolas retrieved most of his arrows, gently cleaning each with a cloth and putting them back in his quiver to sharpen later. Aragorn cleaned his heavy sword on the grass.

"We need to move. Valigraths rarely move in packs."

Vice wiped his in the grass as well, sliding them easily back into his scabbard. He grabbed his bedrolls, threw the rest of the drinking water into the burning embers, and went into the trees. He returned with the largest horse Malrin had ever seen. He was jet black, at least 18 hands high, with feathery hair on his giant hooves. He reached his glossy neck down, sniffing gently at Malrin's hair. She blew in its nose, and he nuzzled her hair. Laughing, Malrin reached up and stroked the horse's silky neck.

"Donovan doesn't usually take well with women."

Malrin stepped back, turning her head. She felt Vice's gentle hand on hers waist, leading her forward. A hand guided hers to the horse's flank, where a long scar ran down. The horse's muscles trembled when Malrin touched the scar, but he didn't move.

"See? You're special."

Malrin caressed the horse's glossy coat.

"What happened?" She whispered.

Vice laughed.

"Orcs are nasty creatures. And they don't mix well with horses."

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed by, embedding itself deep into Vice's forearm, just barely missing Malrin. He yelled, pushing her back towards the trees. Legolas grabbed her by the waist, swinging her back.

"No!"

Malrin cried, reaching for Vice. He was clutching his arm where the arrow was, blood staining his already soiled shirt. Vice's face was pale as he grabbed Donovan's rein and pulled him into the dark of the trees. They all pulled back, the dark shadows hiding them from view. Over head, a winged creature soared over them, circled, and disappeared.

They waited with baited breath for what seemed like hours. Then, slowly, like mice from their burrows, they crept out, scanning the skies for any sudden movements.

"C'mon lad, up and at 'em."

Gimli was helping a stumbling Vice onto a log. The arrow pierced through his arm clear to the other side. Aragorn started for Vice, but Malrin got their first. Tearing off the bottom of her slip, she tied it tightly above the wound. Legolas grasped his comrade's chest and studied her, saying nothing. Aragorn set a pot of boiling water close by, while Gimli, mumbling something about stinging nettles, set plants close to Malrin. Malrin took a deep breath and broke the arrow in half. Vice was pale, but he gritted his teeth and said nothing. She slid the arrow out straight and very quickly. Vice groaned and threw his head back, his muscle tense. Malrin ripped another large section of her slip, using it as a rag. She cleared the wound of blood, and set the plants in the water, and then crushed them between two large stones, applying the pulp to the wound and wrapping it tightly with a clean bandage.

"Quite the little medic."

Vice urged, watching her inquisitively. Malrin looked up, her focus broken.

"Yes...my father was a physician."

Legolas let go of Vice and picked up the bloody arrow.

"This arrow is of Cakkrith origin. We must depart."

Legolas mounted his dignified, silvery mare, while Gimli rode a sturdy russet pony. Aragorn helped Vice up on Donovan, and turned. He studied Malrin attentively, his stern brown eyes weary and troubled. Suddenly he broke into a swift stride, mounting a good-natured brunette mare with white socks. She shook her mane, prancing, eager to leave. He raised his gloved hand in farewell, doubt clouding his face.

"Farwell, Malrin, Lady of Dubliran. We pray you safe travels."

They all turned their mounts toward the east, all except Legolas, who dismounted gracefully.

"Come with us, Malrin."

His voice was calm, but his green eyes gleamed with longing, and held out a lean hand. Malrin reached for him, but hesitated, turning away. She felt a gentle kiss on her cheek and heard his gentle command in foreign tongue. The horse whinnied, and took off on a trot to the east. Malrin turned, remorse ripping her chest in two.

_Hope you liked...more will be uploaded soon! Let me know how bad it is :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Gluttony

Slipping to the ground, Malrin closed her eyes, willing her swirling thoughts to settle. Making her mind up, Malrin impatiently swung the stolen cloak on, slipping her new sword to her leather belt. She turned to the south, her bare feet swift on the forest floor. The trees provided her relief from the high noon sun. She crossed the river, its deep currents pulling her heavy woolen skirt in every direction. Malrin made it across. Laying on the warm pebbles that lined the river, she caught her breath, her mind focused on her imperative purpose. The sun was affectionate on her chilly skin, bringing feeling back into her numb limbs. When she was rested, she took off again, her dark green cloak flashing between the trees. As she reached the top of the hill, her breath caught in her throat, grief making her knees shake.

The castle had burned, rock debris remaining. Her beautiful town, once filled with joy and cheerfulness was now ashes. She stumbled down the rocky terrain, her vision blurred until she made it to the edge of town. All was deathly silent. He breathing sounded thunderous in the deafening silence, and dread hung like heavy chains on her heart. She fell to her knees, her mind numb. Malrin sobbed, her cries vanishing in the hush. She covered her face with her hands, pain making her body quiver. Tears flowed, warm and salty, down her face. The sunlight warmed her back, a caressing light to ward away the darkness within.

After some time, Malrin rose to her feet, her legs weak, but cast-iron resolution took place of agony. She pushed through the town, ignoring the bodies in the streets and the stench of death and smoke. At the very edge of town, she found a house that was mostly still standing. It had obviously been tried to save by someone. Malrin walked inside, holding her breath. The walls were cracking, the roof falling in. Beams of sunlight searched out the dancing pieces of dust in the air. Malrin took a deep, calming breath and tried to fine something useful the house. She found a leather rucksack first, a few pots, some different herbs and bandages which she stuck in the pack, furs and a gold ring wrapped in blue silk. Malrin studied it carefully. It glinted white-gold in the sunbeams, showing off its exceptional value. With a sigh, she reluctantly wrapped it up, setting it carefully in the brown leather bag.

Malrin rummaged through a large mahogany trunk, richly carved and well preserved. Maps, letters, and books filled it to the brim. Malrin picked through them happily. She loved books, so much so that when her father had gone to visit the merchant, Malrin came along to pick one book.

"One book a year, love, will take you wherever you want to go." Her father used to say while he read to her by candle light.

_One book a year..._

Malrin should have 19 books, as that was how many years she had lived on this earth. She never had fit in, as she was unmarried and well educated.

"What a nightmare! Such an old maid!" The girls in the village had taunted, laughing, as she read in the meadow by the village, surrounded by fragrant wild-flowers, her imagination painting pictures of far off lands, dizzying heights, and flaming romances.

"My girl, a good brain and a good heart will take you far."

"How far, father?" She had asked.

He laughed.

"Over the mountains and through the woods, to Rivendell we go!"

Malrin smiled at this memory. She took a complicated map of Middle-Earth and three books about which she did not know, and put them all in her leather satchel, which still had room for more. She noticed the rich house had a back room, closed off by a wooden door, one she had never seen before. Malrin opened it with unease, and fell back with a cry.

A body of a man lay against the wall, a pool of blood surrounding him. Her heartbeat fluttered when he opened his mouth to speak. She ran to him, putting pressure on the wound.

"I can help you."

Malrin tried to stop the bleeding, but her waved her hand away, grasping her pale, shaky hand with his. His grip was strong, startling her. He had piercing grey eyes and a long, snow-white beard.

"Listen closely, girl, I don't have much time. Go to the other room... in the chest, there is a ring."

She hastily reached into her bag and pulled it out, letting it slip from the silk into her palm. He looked startled.

"Trying to steal from me, are you, girl?"

Malrin swallowed, but his eyes shone with good humor.

"'Tis no matter... Take that ring far, far away from here, to Rivendell. Do you hear me, girl?"

He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her with surprising strength. She gasped when his nimble fingers squeezed her healing wound.

"Yes, sir, I will do as you wish."

He dropped his hands, relief clouding his face.

"Take what you need girl, but be swift. They will return."

She nodded, but hesitated.

"I must die girl, understand? My death will bring about a change that is necessary. I-I...Must..."

His eyes fluttered shut.

"The ring is...is c-called... Brithomir...I am its master. Take heed, for danger will reach you with it."

His voice grew strained and weak.

"Never...let...it-t leave your sight..."

He his voice faded, and he lay still. Malrin sat in shock before putting the ring back in her bag.

_Rivendell._

The elf city was known to be the most beautiful of all. Malrin sighed, looking at the man. Gently, she brushed his lined face with her hand.

"Rest well, weary traveler."

She pulled a silk sheet off of the bed, covered his peaceful face with it. Malrin noticed another trunk in the corner. Inside she found men's clothes. Pulling off her stained, damp and soiled dress, she pulled on a loose blouse that covered up her thin waist and breasts. Over her loose blouse she laced up her leather corset. The pants were large, but she kept them up with her leather belt. Malrin found a pair of worn, leather boots, soft and supple, by the door. They were large, but comfortable. Braiding her hair is a messy plait, she stood outside, watching the noon sun descend in the distance. Malrin set off on foot, towards the east again, pulling her green hood up as she walked. She thought of how strange she must look, a woman in men's clothes. Suddenly, Malrin heard a loud banging noise from a building still standing, a little ways away from the town. Apprehensive, she opened the door, and a white flash barreled at her. Malrin moved at the last second, barely escaping the horses sharp hooves. The horse pranced, rearing up and kicking out. Its eyes were wild, and froth covered the horse's coat.

"Easy now."

Malrin spoke in a gentle voice, holding her hand out coaxingly. The horse whinnied, pawing the ground violently, kicking up dirt and grass.

"Fine then, stubborn nag. You're smarter than I."

Malrin turned her back on the horse, waiting. The air was silent for a moment, and then Malrin felt tug at on her hood. She turned gently, and the horse's nose met hers.

"There, now, pretty girl, everything all right. Just a bit frightened, weren't we?"

Malrin kissed the velvety nose softly and stroked the horse's forehead, marveling. Her coat was snowy white with peppered brown specks littered all over.

"You could aid me, Pretty One. "

The horse nuzzled her, as though in agreement. Malrin smiled. Grabbing the thin leather halter, she led the horse back to the barn. The horse would not step inside though, so, alone, Malrin stepped into the sweet smelling building. It was very dark, and very warm. Sweat gathered on Malrin's brow, her leather corset feeling uncomfortably tight around her waist. She found a rough blanket and a saddle hanging by the door. The saddle was a soft, the supple leather intricately designed with flowers, birds and the letter H. Malrin rolled the blanket up tightly, and carried both out into the bright sun. The horse had wandered off a few feet, nibbling contentedly at the soft grass. At Malrin's loud whistle, the horse picked up her ears and trotted over with a soft nicker. Malrin heaved the heavy saddle onto her back, tying the rolled blanket and her leather pouch on the back. The horse stirred lightly, but didn't dart. Gently, so as not to agitate the mare, Malrin nimbly pulled herself up, positioning herself on the smooth leather.

"There now, pretty love, not so hard, was it? You are a darling!"

Malrin paused with a small smile.

"That'll be your name then... Melda. It's _darling_ in elfish, you know."

Melda stirred in impatience, eager to be off. Malrin clicked her tongue and dug in her heels, and they flew to the north, the wind providing relief from the hot sun.


	3. Chapter 3: Pride

_I'm really sorry this chapter is so short and rather terrible. With my musical practice and homework, I had almost no time to write today, though I may find time later. I really hope you like it! Many thanks to **courtneychaffee1** for following! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! _

Melda flew through the woods on the hard worn dirt path. Malrin grinned, the smell of the woods damp and fresh. The air hit her face, making her golden hair fly back and flash in the light caught between leaves.

Malrin reined Melda in, pulling her gently to a stop at the place where the path faded away. Malrin hesitated, twisting her neck to find the easiest way to pass through the dense woodland. After some uncertainty, she turned Melda to the west, through two oak trees that bent towards each other, creating a natural arch.

Suddenly, a snake slithered out of the tall grass. Melda reared up in terror, almost throwing Malrin off.

"Whoa, girl, steady. Steady-"

Melda alighted with both hooves on the packed earth with a blow. Melda shook her head, prancing and mouthing the bit. Then, she reared again and bolted suddenly. Malrin leaned forward, wrapping the leather reins tight around her hands and settling her boots into the stirrups. Luckily, Malrin's heavy cloak protected her new blouse, but her face wasn't so lucky. They tore through the brush, loose twigs and sharp thorns finding flesh.

The pounding of hooves and the whistle of the wind in her ears seemed to go on endlessly, until the trees suddenly faded away, being replaced with bare, scorched trees. The air was deathly silent and burnt, making Malrin's throat burn. The only sound was the ceaseless beat of hooves on dust. Melda turned suddenly, and Malrin was caught unaware. She plummeted off her saddle, falling on the dry, packed dirt with a dull thud. Melda ran faster, suddenly lighter minus the hundred and twenty pounds of Malrin, finally disappearing into the dusty distance. Malrin lay there, gasping for breath, wincing as a sharp pain flashed through her ribs. No birds sung, no wind whispered through the leaves, no water ran. There was only a painful hush, like death. Finally Malrin rolled onto her back, trying to rest and structure a fresh plan in her mind.

A sting on her back made her squirm in discomfort. Another on her neck, arms, legs and scalp made her stand up with dread. Malrin looked down at her arms and fell back with a screech when she saw hundreds of spiders crawling over her pale skin and white blouse. She fell back against a tree and recoiled when the bark crumbled under her skin, creating a black dust that seemed to fill the very air itself. It floated through the air like a dark gas, making Malrin lightheaded and her vision shadowy.

Suddenly, through the cloud, a grotesque beast stretched its wings through the air. It was enormous, black as ink, with piercing yellow eyes that cut through the haze like arrows. Malrin shrunk away in horror, tumbling onto the ground with her hands shielding her face. The bat-like creature opened its mouth and let out a piercing cry, soaring towards her with ferocity.

Malrin screamed.


	4. Chapter 4: Greed

Birds chirped merrily as they flitted through the trees, their minute voices floating down to rest on the elf's ears. Legolas was uneasy. The tress whispered secrets all around them, taunting the group with their veiled words and although he could feel their moods, their stubbornness was root deep. The group was in a part of the forest none of them had ever been. The path was smooth and easy to ride, though steep banks along all sides closed them in. An ambush would be fatal to them in this place.

Aragorn led the way, his sturdy pace giving vigor and importance to their mission, followed directly by Gimli on his strong pony. Vice took up the rear, his huge black stallion ill at ease with horses in the wake of him.

At their pace, they would easily make it to Calomel by sunset. They had enough rations to last them at least another day, though with Gimli's appetite it was uncertain. Calomel had not been heard of for many season, and a creeping fear grasped Legolas' heart, a dark dread that the lively human town, which was one full of light and peace, would be found in a state quite similar to Dȗbliran. The King and Queen of Calomel had lived in peace with the world for so many years that they were foolish to the ways of war. If they were to be attacked, doom would fall to their kingdom.

An icy wind was blowing from Mordor, bringing violence, death and destruction. Legolas felt that the worst was yet to come, though he kept up an sanguine shield so as not to worry Aragorn, whose face was lined and weary beyond his years.

Legolas' stallion, Arod, shook his head nervously, his stride cautious as they walked farther north. Legolas stroked his horse's neck gently.

"Sîdh, Arod."

Suddenly, a shrill cry echoed against the trees. The birds took off in flight in panic, taking their joyful colors and songs with them. The forest was quiet for far too long, as even the trees paused in their whispers to listen to the wind. Aragorn held his breath, his sword drawn. Gimli leaped off his pony foolishly, as the pony galloped off in the opposite direction in fright.

"That damn nag! There goes half our supplies and my blanket. Third time that _crow bait_ has run off, I oughta-"

Legolas held up a hand to quiet him. A cold wind blew through across the path, making the trees moan and the branches sway eerily. The sky darkened with storm clouds, bringing the clear scent of rain to their noses. The horses jerked their heads up, their eyes white with fear as they pranced, seeking a way to escape the leather that bound them to that spot. Legolas murmured to them in elvish.

"What do you suppose that was?"

Aragorn asked, unease clouding his weary face.

"Probably just a animal. Nothin' else lives in these woods 'cept beasts and birds."

Gimli's words were consoling to Aragorn as he reined in his mare, helping Gimli up behind him, while Vice started behind them. Noticing Legolas was not following, they turned. Legolas stood, holding his horse's reins in his right hand, while his face was turned toward the swift breeze.

"Legolas, what do you see?"

Aragorn called, riding over and positioned his mare behind him, his sword drawn once more. Gimli dismounted and held his axe at the ready.

"It is nothing that I see, but is what I hear that troubles me."

Legolas paused, turning his head. His gleaming blue eyes were sharp with apprehension.

"That was no animal, Aragorn."

The group tensed. Legolas turned to Aragorn, his smooth face draw in concentration.

"It was no beast nor bird I have ever heard. The trees have changed. They are fearful..."

Legolas paused as he mounted Arod. Turning to their left, he started up the steep bank into the protected woods.

"Legolas, Calomel is a day's journey ahead of us. Can we not just -"

Vice's words were cut off with another cry in the distance. He heaved a sigh with poorly hidden amusement, turning his horse up the bank as well.

"We're off to chase the elf-boy again. Always you with your mystical might..."

Legolas turned around, bewildered. Vice chuckled at him, slapping him on the back heartily with his good arm, then drew his swords.

"Shall we go, then?"

Legolas broke in to a smile, turned and clicked to Arod.

"Lasto beth nîn, Arod, noro lïm!"

Arod broke into a swift dash, his flanks rippling with muscle. The group followed close behind, their horses running at full pace to the west. Aragorn, with a firm, determined expression, stayed close to Legolas. They flew through the trees with effortlessness, as they were farther apart here, the bushes, branches and leaves trembling in the air that anticipated rain.

Almost instantaneously, the trees turned black and charred. Their burned limbs reached out to the riders, like fingers on a corpse's hand. The wind blew up the ashen powder around then, spiraling into the sky as they rode on. Suddenly, the scream sounded from their right. Legolas stopped his horse and dismounted gracefully, pulling his bow up and readying an arrow. He stepped into the dusty air, his comrades close behind.

It was dark. The air was thick and difficult to breathe, as storm clouds gathered ahead, cutting off more light than they had before. No birds called, and it was chilly here, unnaturally so.

"There is a magic in this place... but it is not pleasant. Do not touch the trees."

Legolas said softly, agitation darkening his youthful face as they walked on through the scorched haze.

"I smell death."

Aragorn studied the trees around them, troubled.

"We should turn back, Legolas. These woods are past our help now."

Legolas turned to Aragorn, pain flitting across his face.

"These woods were not always lifeless. This was the Forest of the Ents, and they protected it with their lives."

He turned, troubled.

"Legends tell of trees who would speak to you in times of great difficulty. Now the greed of man and magic has laid waste to more of the past."

Aragorn stepped forward and gripped Legolas' shoulder in silence.

"Come, Legolas, we make haste to Calomel."

Legolas turned, returning the arrow to his quiver and his bow to his back.

Suddenly, a figure crashed through the trees. Wielding her sword violently, the fair-haired haired young woman shrieked and slashed at something unseen that fluttered around her face. Legolas bolted to her, attempting to grasp the sword without being slashed at himself. The girl turned, her stormy grey eyes wild with horror.

_Malrin._

Legolas stopped dead in astonishment, barely missing a well aimed thrust of the sword.

"I will kill you were you stand."

Malrin's voice was quiet as she attempted to hide her panicked tone. Her hand shook as she held up the glinting sword to his throat.

"Do you not-"

"SILENCE!"

Malrin screamed, slashing at Legolas' face. He jumped back, unscathed but stunned. Vice stepped forward, mild confusion drawing his brow together, but all forms of humor had gone from his face.

"Drop your weapon."

Malrin tensed, resolution filling her grey eyes. Suddenly she leapt forward with rage. Vice easily blocked her, but her return blow met its mark, slashing Vice's cheek. He yelled, falling back. Suddenly angry, Vice stood and slit Malrin's arm. She screamed with rage, retreating.

"No, Vice!"

Vice hesitated, realizing what he had done. Remorse filled his face as he dropped his swords, stepping back in horror. Malrin grasped her arm, her eyes filled with fury, her face tense, still grasping her bloody sword.

Suddenly the sky opened up, showering them with fresh rain. Lightning cracked across the dark sky, and the hazy air cleared as small rivers ran through the dust. Malrin gasped, her body suddenly limp. Her eyes rolled back as she dropped to the ground. Vice ran to her, holding her limp body to his to his chest.

"She's burning up, Aragorn."

Aragorn took Malrin from him, setting her on his saddle, jumping up behind her. It was pouring now, Aragorn's hair plastered to his head, small droplets dripping from rough beard.

"We ride. Now."

Legolas pulled Gimli up behind him on Arod, while Vice mounted Donovan, guilt and blood shadowing his face. They took off to the south, a new tension to the air.


	5. Chapter 5: Sloth

Chapter 5

All through the night, visions of terrible things played through Malrin's head. Cold, lifeless hands, pulling her down, down, down into a terrible darkness she couldn't escape, while demons scratched and clawed at her skin, jeering and taunting her. Her Mother and Father, their bodies bloody and lifeless. She was aware of her shrieks, her screams of pain.

Tossing and turning in the smoldering bed, the demons ripped open her skull. A fiery pain spread all over her body, burning her. She was suddenly aware of strong hands holding her up and something wonderfully fresh and cold slide down her throat. The medicine took hold, and she drifted off to sleep where there was no pain, just a cool, damp darkness. A pair of luminescent eyes drifted into her gaze, and a blissful darkness surrounded her again.

When Malrin woke, her whole body was comfortably warm, and she was worried that if she opened her eyes, the warmth would fade, bringing back the hard pain she had felt before.

A sharp, lilting voice spoke from her right, and Malrin's eyes fluttered open in surprise.

"How do you feel, my lady?"

The woman next to her was short, with a soft lined face and sharp green eyes. Her flaming hair was tucked under a white kerchief, though some untamed tresses had escaped, and her dark green dress was simple but flattering to her soft figure. The woman smiled, reaching over with a gentle hand to brush Malrin's forehead.

"Your fever has gone down, and I tended the lesion on your arm. I daresay you will recover, though we were quite worried for a time."

Malrin looked at her arm, surprised. It was wrapped in a clean bandage. Malrin shook her head, trying to remember.

"I was... in a forest."

The woman nodded.

"The Forest of the Ents, in fact. It is diseased now, though it was not always that way. You are lucky to be alive. The sorcery in those woods drive a person mad. I've seen it many a time before, my lady."

The woman explained, nodding knowledgeably. She turned and walked to a bowl that she took, along with a soft cloth. Dipping the rag into the water, she wiped Malrin's face gently.

"Three days you have slept. The one brown haired man never left your side. He had quite a nasty gash on his face, but he wouldn't let me tend to it. He looked terrible. Didn't eat nor sleep, 'til finally the elf came and got him. You all are quite mysterious, seeing as we don't have many visitors lately. Ever since those rumors have started about that shadow in the east, not many people have left their doorstep! My own brother was killed by Orcs, God rest his soul, and I have been nervous to set foot in any woods at all, not to mention The Forest of the Ents! But never you mind that, I shouldn't be talking of such things, not with you as sick as you are and so weak."

Malrin tensed, her grey eyes flashing with anger. The woman laughed musically, hitting Malrin lightly on the leg.

"There now, no offence meant. I do tend to run my mouth, never mean no harm to nobody, just got a lot 'a things in my mind, and not enough minutes in the day! As my mother used to say; 'Now, Mary, talking comes by nature, silence by wisdom'. Now, by God, I have been on this earth 50 some years and the silence has reached me naught! But 'tis no matter, as long as I've got a strong breath in my lungs and a spring in my step. I'm Mary, by the way, Mary McLennan. What is your name, child? Speak up now!"

Malrin laughed, her grey eyes sparkling in amusement.

'Malrin."

"Ah, and a fitting name it 'tis! 'Golden-haired' in Elvish! Now don't look so surprised,"

Mary looked amused.

"A many a year I lived here with the Queen, and many an elf have passed through these halls. 'Tis hard to not understand some elvish, after a while. Now, get up lazy bones! Your companions have been waiting long enough, as well as the King, and he isn't a patient man, I'm afraid."

Malrin slipped out of the bed, surprised to find herself in a soft nightgown. Mary chuckled at her expression.

"Covered in blood and filth, you were, no less! Couldn't let that into my Queen's castle, if you please. Now here, put this on, lassie and be quick with you."

Mary held out a soft burgundy cloth. Malrin stared, bewildered.

"C'mon lass, we don't have all day!"

Malrin started, seized the fabric and vanished behind a gold divider.

When she reappeared, clothed in the soft dress, Mary gasped in delight.

"Why don't you look prettier than a blossom in the countryside!"

Malrin blushed, making her way over to a mirror in front of a wooden dress. The woman that stared back at Malrin made her mouth drop open in surprise.

She had dazzling, stormy grey eyes. Gold, twisted hair framed her fair face, and a soft dress of burgundy velvet with short lace sleeves complimented her small waist and full bust.

"Never seen your reflection before, I gather?

Mary chuckled, delighted.

"Once, when I was very small... I had no need of a mirror."

Mary smoothed the dress down in the back, and pulled out a silver hairbrush.

"Might as well make you look presentable, though that dress makes you look at least a bit like a girl. Running around in pants and a man's shirt, you should be ashamed! The Queen doesn't take kindly to filth... I rather think the King doesn't mind, being a man and all, but 'tis important all the same."

Mary babbled on as she brushed out Malrin's wild curls. Malrin studied her own face, delighted to see that she had her mother's nose and bow shaped mouth, while she took after her father in eyes and defined jaw. Suddenly realizing how vain she was being, she looked away, only to have her head yanked back to place.

"Never seen such hair, child. Wild curls like a Halfling, I daresay!"

"My father had curly hair... but his was dark brown. My mother's was-"

Mary cut her off with a chuckle.

"Red, I gather? Aye, you have some Irish in you, I can tell. Fiery temper and stubborn as an ox! I can tell in your eyes... Your lost now, child, broken and confused, but you'll find yourself. Aye, that I'm sure of."

Malrin looked a little perplexed, but Mary smiled, almost sadly, at her. Then, with a start, she burst into song, a little out of tune, while she finished brushing out Malrin's mane.

_Near Bainbridge town, in the County Down_

_One morning in July_

_Down a field green came a sweet colleen_

_And she smiled as she passed him by._

_She looked so sweet from her two white feet_

_To the sheen of her nut-brown hair_

_Such a coaxing elf, he to shook himself_

_To make sure he was standing there._

_As she onward sped he shook his head_

_And he gazed with a feeling rare_

_And he said out loud, to a passerby_

_"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"_

_He smiled at him, and with pride says he,_

_"That's the gem of Ireland's crown._

_She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann_

_She's the star of the County Down."_

Malrin smile disappeared as she watched Mary sing. Mary's eyes filled with tears, but her voice did not change. It was clear and joyful, but there was an aching sadness about her face. When Mary finished, she brushed the tears out of her green eyes.

"Sorry lass, memories can make a life or break a heart. But 'tis no matter, look at how fine you are! Even the elf will fall heels over pointed ears for you."

Standing, Mary pulled her into a hug. The older woman smelled of soap and clear spring air, bringing back a memory of her mother with a pang.

"There now lass, off you go. Enjoy the feast."

Malrin smiled, suddenly excited. Gathering her skirt in her hand, she sped through the hallways of the castle, her bare feet pounding on the cool stone. Hearing voices, she skidded to a stop by a pair of heavy oak doors that were open just a crack. Legolas' soft voice floated out, troubled.

"We cannot stay here, Aragorn. The girl will be well taken care of, and we have enough rations to make it to Rivendell if we are careful."

Vice's miserable voice answered him.

"We cannot just leave her, Aragorn. We own her our lives. If she had not draw us to her, we would have been killed on that road. And I hurt her. "

Bursting in the room, she was suddenly furious. Furious at Legolas for wanting to leave her behind, furious at Aragorn for not caring, and furious at Vice for sounding like a kicked dog.

"Leave me?! I was almost _killed_ trying to find you, you fools!"

They sat there, stunned.

"I went back! I went back to... Dûbliran to gather enough supplies to last me the trip to Gondor, when I found a-"

The wind was knocked out of her chest.

"My...pack... my leather pack on the horse. Where is it?"

Malrin was panicked.

_The Ring._


	6. Chapter 6: Envy

**Astraea Concord****: Your review was absolutely beautiful and positively extraordinary, and I cannot thank you enough, truthfully! I thought about answering privately, though I realized this may benefit all my readers. Sorry it took so long, but I have a performance in two weeks and it's been crazy!**

**Yes, this is a spinoff of Middle Earth, though I want to keep the same charm and magic about it. Most of the towns are those that I have created, but some have evolved from other legends. **

**I included Ireland in it (foolishly), wanting to give a grasp of the world to readers, but also to provoke thought; What if this had all been happening right outside our (metaphorical) door some thousands and thousands of years ago?**

**Thank you so much for the comment on Legolas and Malrin! They are my pride and joy, and I wanted to really bring the wise character of Legolas that everyone knows and loves.**

**The Forest of the Ents, though similar to Fangorn, (in the way that it is -err, was- protected by the Ents) is quite different in the fact that it is diseased, and beyond life, and was named by the peasants in the towns around. I really didn't want to destroy Fangorn, unless absolutely necessary, as it may come in handy later on in my story. **

**Again, thank you so very much for being my first ever reviewer and fantastic critic, and I hope you enjoy! Feel free to ask more questions, and I will change/explain anything you need!**

The rain beat against the stained glass windows, but the flickering light of the great fire chased the chill away. Enormous tables packed the hall, covered in fragrant, delicious foods and exotic smells. Laughter, music and dance filled the hall, and vibrant skirts whirled around and around the stone floor. Amid the din and merriment, Malrin sat placidly, her keen eyes barely hiding the flicker of exhilaration as she studying everything intently. Beside her sat Legolas, keeping a watchful eye on her and the King Alavaryar, who sat alone at the head of the table, clapping joyously along with the dancers, his vibrant beard shining in the firelight. His Queen Cötta sat next to him, her striking face firm and rather uninterested. Aragorn stood alone in a corner, his pipe smoke curling around his face as he kept an eye on the everything, the handle of his sword just barely peeping out from under his dark cloak. Gimli was surrounded by numerous men who, with every beer he gulped down, whooped and yelled. Vice had gone on Donovan with the guards.

Malrin suspiciously surveyed the tankard that sat before her. Lifting it up, she took a sip. A deep burning spread through her throat, making her cough. Legolas looked over at her in bewilderment. Malrin smirked at his expression, the biting ale already making her head slightly foggy. Unexpectedly, a heavy hand rested on Malrin's thin shoulders. She turned, expecting to find Vice, but instead found herself looking into a short, stout man's face.

"Care to dance, my lady? A sweet bird like you shouldn't be sitting alone in a corner."

His face was lined, and his brown eyes were filled with a ancient wisdom. Smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He pulled her up with a jovial chuckle. Legolas stood as well, having been listening, his eyes uncertain.

"Everything will be fine, Legolas."

Malrin murmured with a smile, her eyes flashing with anticipation. He nodded, sitting back down, keeping his glittering eyes on them.

A wild reel started, the fiddler playing with a beam on his face.

_I met a girl, one summers night,_

_So soft her skin, and moon so bright,_

_She spun around and whirled a jig,_

_I'd never seen a finer rig._

_Her voice a chime like bell so clear,_

_And soft blue eyes that knew no fear,_

_Around and around she whirled again,_

_Until the ale dripped down my chin!_

The dancers hollered and stamped their feet. The woman gathered their skirts in their hands and started spinning, their hair shimmering in the firelight, their faces glowing with elation. Malrin laughed, and gathering up her long velvety skirt, followed suit. The short man laughed and joined her. Boots sparked against the stone floor and joyful notes filled the hall. The King laughed, throwing his great head back, making his crown flash in the light.

A great crash reverberated through the hall, cutting the music short with a squeak of the fiddle. The women backed away towards the walls, while the men drew their swords, Aragorn stepping in front of them. Legolas pulled Malrin back behind him, pulling a dagger out of his soft leather belt.

A dark silhouette stood in the doorway, his back to the pouring rain, holding another man by his collar. As the silhouette advanced, Malrin let out a sigh of relief. Vice stood, soaking wet and livid, grasping a pale, snake-like man by the hood of his cloak. The man peered out from under his brows darkly, a demented grin fixed on his whitish face. Throwing the man at the feet of the king, Vice spoke vehemently.

"This _weasel_ was caught fleeing your storerooms on a stolen horse."

The King studied the man on the ground with revulsion. Nodding to his guards, he stepped back, letting them grasp the man under the arms and yank him into a standing position.

"What say you, thief?"

The king thundered, his eyes flashing with command. The man sniggered, his peculiar eyes filled with malevolence.

"I say nothing of substance, my lord, but speak a warning- A weasel I may be, but a traitor you hide in your midst."

The man laughed, his far set eyes glinting wickedly.

"You _dare_ questions my courts' honor?" The King growled, flames dancing in his eyes, his face bared into a snarl.

"I do not question it, my lord, but deny its existence."

The queen set a slender hand on the king's arm, caution in her glance at him. In her calm, stern voice she spoke.

"Have you recovered the horse and all that was stolen, traveler?"

Vice swept into a deep bow.

"Yes, my queen, and more."

Vice tossed a leather satchel which had been stuffed under his cloak to Malrin, who caught it, relief and fear of what she would find filling her mind.

"Ain't no use, lovely... Nothing in there but papers and books." The weasel man taunted, his eyes trailing her body feverishly.

Frantically, Malrin pushed books and papers aside, dismay heavy in her breast. Suddenly, at the bottom, something sleek brushed up against her fingertips.

_Silk._

Pulling the small bundle up, which had been caught inside a map, she let the blue silk fall away in her palm, revealing the glinting white gold in her palm.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Aragorn tensed, his sword at the ready while his handsome filled with alarm. Vice froze, his eyes wide with shock. Legolas whispered in surprise.

"'Tis the ring, Brithomir."

**Yeah, yeah... it's short and terrible...But you get to read my poetry talent and soon find out why the ring is so dangerous(or not...hehehehe)!**


	7. Chapter 7: Vigilant

The sky was still dark when Malrin awoke, her body aching. With a sigh, she stood, making her way to the window. The trees stirred in a delicate breeze, the moon as clear as the noon day sun, spreading a crystal light on the greenery outside. Wrapping a green cloak around her nightgown, she left the room, her cape rustling across the cold floor. Opening the great door softly, she stepped out into the moonlight, her bare feet sinking into the damp, soft grass.

Malrin sighed with relief. The night was warm, crickets chirping contentedly in the tall, swaying grass. She walked past the castle walls, down to a deep pond. Lilies floated on the surface, tall reeds growing along the sides, and the moon reflected, distorted, on the water. Malrin stepped forward, dropping her cloak on the grass, still wet from the rain. Lifting her nightgown up past her ankles, she stepped into the warm water that lapped at the shoreline.

A tear slid down her face, spreading its salty taste across her cracked lips.

_'Come my love, stand and fight. Nothing was ever achieved by tears.'_

_Malrin sat, nine years old again, on a emerald hill, a small toy bow sitting next to her. Her beautiful mother with striking, tender eyes kneeled in front of her, blue silk spread around her knees. _

_'But mother, all the boys say I can't shoot because I'm a girl!'_

_Malrin whispered, dismayed. Her mother laughed kindly, wiping away tears with gentle fingers._

_'Wipe those tears away, my sweet love, and pay no mind to boys. We live in a world where men reign, my darling, but that does not mean you cannot be as skillful as they! Practice, and show them that they are mistaken.'_

_Malrin sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Malrin's mother smiled tenderly, pulling out a soft kerchief and cleaned Malrin's soft face. Then, standing, she lifted Malrin up and seized the bow, readying one of its small arrows. Giving the bow to Malrin, she kneeled one again, her auburn hair twisting in the wild wind._

_'Pull back, and relax. Keep your arm straight love, and use only two fingers. Very good, focus now and...let it fly.'_

_Malrin let go, watching as the arrow pierced the center of the target. Squealing, she ran to the target and grasped the tiny arrow with her short fingers._

_'Bull's-eye, Mother, a bull's-eye!'_

_Her mother laughed on the top of the green hill, waving as the gentle wind rustled her blue silk skirt, the sun setting behind her._

Malrin turned her face upwards toward the moon, breathing in the earthy smell of the night.

"Once, long ago, an elf king lived."

Legolas' voice etched through the silence, making Malrin drop her dress in surprise. The white silk skimmed the surface, flowing eerily through the water.

"He was wise and just, and his people loved him with all their hearts, for they lived in a world of darkness and confusion, for the world was new. "

Legolas stood next to her in the water, his chiseled face radiant in the moonlight, his silken hair shimmering.

"With all his heart, he yearned for a wife. Though her searched through all his kingdom and past his borders, finding many beautiful elleth, none loved him back. He was wasting away with loneliness, prepared to go to the sea. Hearing of her king's pain, a young elleth went before him, hoping to entice him. She was fairer than all the stars in the skies, and many desired her. They fell in a deep love with each other, and they were married at dawn the next day. The king was joyful, and they lived peacefully for many, many years. One day, an friend of the crown, who was very much in love with the queen, tried to kill the elf king out of envy. The queen flung herself in front of the blade, while the traitor fled. Taking his dying queen in his arms, the king swore he would not rest until the queen's death was avenged. Lighting a candle, the king searched the sky every day for her slayer. The flame spread into a great circle in the sky, and the elvish race rejoiced, for the sun had been created, and they grew food by the plenty."

Legolas paused, his face turned to the moon.

"At night, the queen's bright spirit roams the skies, searching for her king. They are bound in a loop, never able to be together, but always in a constant balance."

Legolas said softly, speaking to the moon. Malrin turned, perplexed.

"Why does she not move on?"

Legolas smiled, a small, sad smile, turning toward her.

"Because love is an unbreakable force. Through sadness, pain, betrayal and death, love must linger, or what would this world be?"

Malrin looked down into the gleaming water.

"Broken." She whispered, turning her head, her bright eyes shining as she glanced his way.

Legolas smiled.

"You should be asleep, my lady. These days are tiresome."

"I say the same to you, sir."

Legolas laughed, a clear, chiming laugh like many silver bells in crisp air.

"Elves do not sleep. We dream of colors and beautiful sounds, but we do not sleep."

Malrin studied him, puzzled.

"Does it pain you? To always have to think?"

Legolas did not speak, but turned to her and took her arm gently in his nimble fingers, leading her out of the water and to the door of the castle.

"Sleep, Malrin. The world will not stop turning if you do."

Malrin sighed, studying his face, bemused. Turning, she swept away, her skirt whispering across the stone.

"Goodnight."

Legolas' soft whisper floated to her ears. Malrin paused, but did not turn. A smile broke on her face as she walked away.

The steady beat of distance drums woke Malrin. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion. She lay there for a minute, listening closely. Standing, Malrin made her way to the window, where soft golden light fanned softly in, the sun peeking over the mountains in the distance. Curiously, a large crowd were making their way across a field separating the castle from the edge of the forest. They were at least three leagues away, though they were approaching rapidly. Troubled, Malrin slipped a brown skirt on, and the soft linen blouse from her journey here, which was now starched and mended. Reaching into her leather satchel, she pulled the ring out, admiring the rosy gleam of light reflected in its pristine surface before hiding it. Lacing up her leather corset, she packed her bag and slipped out the door, her glance lingering in the small, cheerfully lit room she had enjoyed for so short a time.

Making her way to the great hall, she ran straight into Vice, who looked restless.

"Come, Malrin."

He turned, heading through the kitchen. Following him, Malrin grabbed a couple apples, a loaf of bread, and a chunk of cheese that were sitting on a tall table on a whim and stuffed them into her leather satchel. Together they stepped into the crisp morning, the sun not yet bringing warmth to the air. Vice lead her a tall stable, filled with the sharp scent of horses and hay. Legolas was staring out one of the stable windows, completely still. Gimli was snoring in the hay, still suffering from a hangover from the night before. Aragorn was muttering under his breath as he paced, his eyes unfocused. Malrin, concerned, reached for Aragorn's arm. He stopped when her fingers gripped his strong arm, his stormy grey eyes somewhere far away.

"What are they?"

Malrin inquired, suddenly distressed. Aragorn hesitated, looking past her at Legolas, who returned his glance steadily.

"Orcs. The king knows of this danger, and has most of his soldiers positioned by the outer bailey and barbican. They will attack from the east."

He turned away from her, rubbing his face contemplatively.

"Do we stay and fight, or start to Rivendell?"

Malrin sat on a bale of hay, close to Gimli, who snored and rolled onto his side, hay sticking to his beard.

"We must leave, Aragorn. The ring must be brought to Gandalf."

Aragorn stepped toward Legolas, tense.

" It would be traitorous and cowardice to leave them now. They will die, Legolas. All of them."

Legolas stood his ground.

"Then they will die fighting, and not in vain. The Ring could change _everything_ about the war, Aragorn. The war is looming closer every day, and it cannot be put off much longer. I feel it like a cold, black shadow sweeping over everything."

Malrin stood, confused.

"War? We live in a time of peace."

Suddenly, a shadow moved into the barn. Sweeping her dark cloak off her gleaming ebony hair, the queen stepped into the light of the barn. In her fine dress and jewelry, she looked out of place in the modest shed.

"Peace, my child, has left us long ago. Sadly, my husband has not yet understood the gravity of our situation."

Glancing out the window at the steadily rising sun, her face hardened.

"The last rising sun I shall ever see."

Vice stepped to her, his face pleading.

"Come with us, your grace. You can be safe, in Rivendell, until you find-"

"I will die, traveler, by my king and my people's side, with honor."

Vice bowed his head.

"You must leave now. While you still have time. Take this,"

The queen handed Aragorn a package.

"It is food, for your journey."

Aragorn hesitated, studying her noble face, quiet and serene.

"I do not fear death, Strider. Death, it seems, fears me."

Aragorn smiled sorrowfully.

"Of that I have no doubt."

The queen kissed them all on the cheek. Then, mahogany eyes met grey.

"Be not afraid, child. Your strength is stronger than you believe."

Malrin opened her mouth to reply, but found she could not. She sunk to her knees in a bow.

"You are wise and fair, Queen. I envy you."

Queen Cötta laughed, making her stand again with a hand on Malrin's chin. Then, pulling her hood on again, she swept away, leaving a lingering scent of cinnamon.

"Where is the ring?"

Malrin hesitated, stepping back, her eyes watching the door. Vice stepped toward her, his eyes gleaming.

"Malrin-where is the ring?"

She crossed her arms, infuriated with his prodding.

"If you must know, I've hidden it in my corset. Shall I grab it or would you like to get it for yourself?"

Vice stopped, his eyes wide in surprise. Then he burst into peals of laughter, bringing a smirk onto Legolas' face and finally waking Gimli up. Grumbling, Gimli rose to his feet, brushing the straw off of his tunic and rubbing his back with a snarl.

"Honestly, you can't sleep for a moment 'round here."

Aragorn finally turned, resolute.

"How far are they, Vice?"

Vice peered out the window, but Legolas answered.

"About 2 leagues, from the East. 360 foot soldiers, 109 archers. We can escape to the South, through the forest of Forlond, and make our way across the River Lune, if we make it to the Blue Mountain pass, which might take us days to reach, perhaps weeks."

Aragorn nodded, while Vice rolled his eyes.

"Fine then, we ride."

The men, elf and dwarf geared up. Legolas and an apprehensive looking Gimli mounted a saddle-less Arod, while Vice saddled Donovan.

"I'm coming with you."

Malrin said, her eyes blazing. Vice laughed.

"Obviously. What could you possibly do about Orcs, little woman?"

Malrin's eyes flashed angrily, but she pulled a familiar looking saddle off of the wall. Tracing the letter H on the saddle, she paused, confused. Suddenly, looking around, Malrin let out a sigh of relief.

"Melda!"

The dotted mare sat serenely in a stall to the left. Malrin ran to her, kissing her soft nose over and over.

"Oh I thought I had lost you, darling horse."

Vice laughed again, making his way over to stand beside her, helping her with the saddle.

"Funny horse, this one. Wouldn't so much as trot with that weasel on her back."

Malrin grinned, mounting Melda steadily. With everyone securely on their horses, Aragorn reeled around and they took off to the South.


End file.
